


Loss

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Frank Herbert's Dune (2000)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-28
Updated: 2003-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the attempt on Paul's life, Leto and Paul deal with the idea of loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss

They tried to take the life of my son!

That one thought was all that ran through Leto's mind as he passed, numb and unseeing, through the halls of the cavernous palace. Cursed Arrakis, which brings such danger to his family, in a place where he could not protect his son.

They tried to take his LIFE!

Paul was not in his rooms, for Hawat and his men were searching for more hidden traps, things that had somehow escaped detection. The entire house would be subject to even closer inspection than that which had occured before they had even arrived.

His LIFE! MY son...

Leto passed closed doors and opened, hardly glancing aside as he made his way. Not even Jessica's sweet voice could call him away as he unerringly made his way down echoing corridor and twisted hall. He kept walking, nearly running, nearly flying.

"Paul!" There was his young son, standing in the alcove, watching the sun's progress across the window. Something inside Leto's chest eased at the sight of Paul turning, his face composed and unmarked.

"Father." His voice was calm as well, but Leto could feel the tension beneath it, how close he had been. It had shaken the boy more than it had shaken the father.

Leto showed no restraint as he approached his son, his eyes taking in his body before his arms were around him. At first it was an embrace, close and strong, but it quickly turned into a search as he touched everywhere, checking for signs of pain or bruise or wound. Paul kept his hands around his father's shoulders, holding himself steady as Leto moved, checking down his chest and back.

"I'm fine," Paul said, assuring Leto. Leto stopped long enough to look at his son's face. The boy smiled. Paul brought up his hand and showed it to Leto. "I caught it. With my hand. The Shadot Mapes distracted it, and I caught it."

Leto took up that hand. It bore not a mark, not a burn. He turned it over and over, checking both sides again to be sure. The smooth skin barely held a callous, showing only the signs of his weapons training, and not the hard and calloused skin of hard work.

Leto pressed a kiss to the palm, then pressed Paul's hand to his chest. "I would rather they cut out my own heart before any harm ever came to you, Paul. They can take my soul before they can take the life of my son." His voice broke at the thought. How close! His son had held death in his hand, yet survived.

Paul looked startled, his face striken as though he had seen a horror. "Never," he whispered. "They will never take your life. I can't allow it." Paul looked away, his eyes glancing towards the window. He added, in a whisper, "I couldn't bear it."

Leto pulled Paul to his chest. The younger man rested his cheek against his shoulder, his face still turned to the window, to the killing white sun that shone in the stark blue sky. He knew the pain that Paul now felt was from his fears for his father rather than himself. He had seen something in facing his own death. Leto couldn't understand the knowledge his son and his wife held within them, but he knew enough to trust in it, to fear it in some part as much as he feared any thing.

"You will bear it, Paul." Paul shuddered in his arms. "You will. You will bear it, and you will be the stronger for it."

"I don't want to see it," Paul said in a harsh whisper. He buried his face into Leto's shoulder, his arms almost bruising around Leto's chest.

Leto rested his cheek on Paul's head. "You won't," he promised, feeling an eerie sense of forboding, discussing his own death in such a manner.

"I already have."

 

THE END


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